Novelas y relatos de I Don't Feel Safe Anymore

OPHELIA Feeling safe is an underrated feeling. You could be the wealthiest person on earth and have everything you want but once your safety is placed on a declining scale, you will trade anything just to have some peace. After my father’s death, I never felt safe anywhere, especially not under Duncan’s roof. Even when I got to Cryptid Castle as Damian’s supposed mate, safety felt like something foreign to me. But here, under the tight security around us as we make our way to the stage. I feel safe.

"It's been two weeks, and you haven't stepped foot on the porch, let alone the backyard." I sighed, leaning on the bathroom door. "I know," I admitted. "It's just that... I feel safe here, like nothing can attack or hurt me in the mansion," I confessed, hugging myself. Yes, my mother was dead, and the rest were in custody, but that didn't stop me from living with my eyes and ears alert. A part of me couldn't afford to let my guard down, knowing that danger could be lurking around, ready to hit when I least expect it.

Warm. I hate how safe it feels. But I didn’t move. I closed my eyes, and before I knew it—I was gone.

"What I am trying to say is that I don't feel safe. Ever since I started staying in hotels, I've always been attacked, robbed, or almost assaulted. I fear for the safety of my son and myself." I rolled my eyes, not feeling anything like concern for her. "How does that concern me?" I asked through the little anger in me. "Why are you acting this way? We used to be good friends. We hung out a lot and had fun together. Why are you suddenly cold toward me?" She asked in a cracking tone, almost as if she was about to cry.

We were friends now after all, right? After a moment of silence, he finally spoke. “You don't need to worry about any of that now. You're safe.” He said. My hope instantly morphed to disappointment. “I'm never safe,” I responded stonily, the disappointment building up to frustration. I wasn't safe days ago, when a dankeh had sprung up on me in the park. Neither was I safe in the club. Or anywhere outside or inside the pack. How could he say that? “Rose?"

I lift my hand to caress the one-day-old stubble that peppers his face, as the red on it transfers to his skin. Getting his shirt off his body, he wraps me in the cloth. It brushes against my bruises, a hiss spilling through my mouth, but my hands clutch it around me tightly. Covered in safe hands, I expected to feel good, to feel relieved, and safe. Yet, all I feel is the dread, the loss, and the pain hovering over my heart and slowly seeping in and breaking me with comfort. Well, people are right. You just dont feel happy, and calm in your safe space, instead your real safe is when you can express yourself without wanting to hold back, and hide.

And I have no idea who or why. All I know is that every day on this tour I feel less safe. And more alone.

“You’re not leaving.” I laughed softly. Not because it was funny, but because I was too tired to do anything else. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, eyes dark. “It’s not safe for you to go back there. You’re staying here until we handle it.” It’s not safe for me..: My life has been safe until they bulldozed their way back. The only thing unsafe in my life, is my relationship with them. They were the problem and I had accepted it long ago.

“Of course I do. Why would you ask that?” “Because I’m asking you to let me handle what’s out there,” he said, voice quiet. “I don’t want you looking over your shoulder every second. I want you to feel safe again.” I hesitated. “Safe” was a word I hadn’t known how to feel for a long time. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him — I did, with my life — but safety wasn’t something you could just hand to someone. It had to grow back slowly, if it ever did.